Inverchoran
Along the road that followed the river Meig up to Loch Beannacharain, a few small villages stuck to the rocky slope like barnacles on a ship's hull. A narrow track crossed the river and climbed haphazardly to a couple of houses huddled together against the ferocious winds that scorched the grass brown in summer, and piled up deep snowdrifts against the walls in winter. Inverchoran, smallest hamlet of all, had been deserted by young people, who preferred to search for work in Inverness, leaving their elders to fade away slowly in the Highland mist. Further down the valley, Strathconon Primary School welcomed the children of a handful of families who still lived in the other villages.
Dougal Frazer was bent over his vegetables, tearing out weeds and cursing the hard, gritty soil. His sparse grey hair stuck to his brow as beads of sweat trickled down his face, following the dry creases that lined his cheeks. He paused to mop them up with the sleeve of his shirt and noticed two approaching figures on the track. His eyes immediately lit up and he waved his arm with an energy that belied his age.
The young healer was walking up to the stony cottage, along with a tall, hooked-nosed man Dougal did not recognize. He was wearing long black robes, buttoned up to his neck, like a cassock.
"Morag! A'm glad tae see ye, lassie!" the old man exclaimed. "Mah Elaine hurt her leg and she's in an awful lot of pain." Then, turning to the stranger, he added, "A guid day tae ye, Father. We have nae seen a priest fer a long time in these parts."
"I'm not …" the black-clad man started, but Morag grabbed his elbow and frowned, before answering the greeting. "A guid day tae ye, Dougal Frazer. We'll go an' see Elaine, Father Severus here has the gift, same as I".
"Ye'd better come in, then."
The old man showed them inside a tiny kitchen that smelled of soup and fresh bread. A large cooking stove took most of the space, and two crates full of potatoes, carrots and turnips stood in the corner. A narrow door at the back took them to a small living room. A little old lady with vivacious green eyes and woolly white hair was lying on the sofa, her leg roughly bandaged and propped up on a cushion.
"Guid day, Morag," she said. Then, noticing Severus in the doorframe, she nodded politely, "And a guid day tae ye, Father. A'm awfully sairy I cannae get up and greet ye."
Concealing his discomfort beneath an impassive face, Severus approached the sofa. "Good afternoon, Mrs Frazer. I was told your leg is injured. Would you let me examine it?"
At the sound of Severus' voice, the old man startled and groaned, "Morag, what are ye thinkin', bringin' a Sassenach under oor roof?"
"Och, haud yer weesht, ye daft aud fool", Elaine quipped. "He's a man of God, can ye nae show some respect?" Then, addressing Severus, she added, "A'm sairy aboot mah man, Father. He means nae offence." Then, nodding to her leg, "Should ha' called 999, of course, 'xcept that the phone line's gone deid, as usual. But we ken ye can work wonders, Morag."
"I'll let Father Severus take a look, Elaine," Morag said. "He's as guid as healer as I, ye can trust him."
Severus sat next to the old lady and ran his hands above the leg. He could sense the fractured femur, the splinters jutting at an odd angle under the skin, tearing at the muscle. It was a bad break indeed, and given the woman's age, it would not mend well, especially as the bone had been dislodged from his natural position. He looked up and his gaze met Morag's. She gave the slightest nod.
"Brackium Emendo," he muttered. Under his hand, he felt the bone tissues grow, knitting themselves together again, and, with another incantation, he drew them back in their proper place. When he looked up, he realized the old woman's face had gone ashen.
"I'll take over frae here, Father," Morag stated. Then, as he had witnessed her doing countless times, she slowly drew out the thin thread of pain. Elaine gradually relaxed and closed her eyes. Within minutes, a rumbling snore resounding in the room. "Let her sleep it off, she'll be her guid aud self in nae time," Morag said as she carefully carried the ball of pain to the kitchen and threw it in the stove. Dougal Fraser placed his hands on her arms, his old eyes glistening with tears. "I thank ye, dear lass." Turning to Severus, he apologized. "Please, Father, forgive a daft aud man. I misjudged ye. Ye are a holy an' blessed man."
"Don't mention it," Severus muttered.
Dougal handed them an enamel saucepan and a basketful of eggs. "That's a carrots and tatties hotpot for old Erwin. And the eggs are for ye, yon hens lay more than we can eat."
"Thank ye most kindly, Dougal. A'll check on Elaine in a few days," Morag smiled as they left.
"A'm sairy for the wee deception, Severus, she said as they walked up the path. "Folk in these parts are nat'rally suspicious. They'll be quicker tae trust ye if they think ye're a man of kirk, so it's a guid thing Dougal Frazer's took ye for one. Let's keep the pretence, if ye dinnae mind."
Severus nodded.
"That magic ye used was impressive", Morag added. "Ye saved Elaine's life and nae mistake – breaking a leg at her age, that's the beginning of the end. I ken nae spells tae mend broken bones. Will ye teach me?"
"Gladly. From what I have seen, you are more than competent enough to learn it."
Next, the healer took them to a tiny cottage surrounded by a garden full of weeds. She unlatched the door, and Severus found himself inside a small room that was clearly used both as a kitchen and as a bedroom. Morag opened the discoloured curtains, and the late morning sun hit a double bed where an old man lay, eyes half-closed. Wrinkles wove intricate patterns on his skin, and his eyebrows stuck out like little whisps of smoke. The bedside table was covered with several dusty frames. A ball of yarn and some knitting needles lay on a threadbare armchair, together with a magazine titled "Woman's Weekly". Muggle equivalent to Witch's Weekly, no doubt, Severus thought privately.
"Guid morning, Morag," the old man muttered.
"Guid day, Erwin. This is Father Severus, who's going round the hooses with me today," Morag said.
"Mah respects tae ye, Father." His red-rimmed eyes flickered as if staying awake was in itself an exertion.
Morag lay the saucepan on the table, then cleaned the grate in the fireplace, placed a few logs in it and started a fire, chatting kindly to Erwin. Severus listened as the man sang his son's praises. "He made such a guid career for himself, ye ken. Works in London, in the City, and everything. He'll come and visit soon."
"Erwin, may I take a look at yer feet?" Morag asked. She pulled back the covers. An angry purple bruise spread from his heel to his ankle. "Father Severus, would ye be so kind as tae warm a pot of water on the fire for me?" the healer asked. Once the water was warm, she took a clean piece of cloth and washed the old man's feet gently, before applying a poultice on the bruise. Next, she produced a nail clipper and cut the old man's nails.
"Noo, ye're all set, Erwin. A'll be back again soon," she said once she was done.
"If ye wait a bit, mah wife Isobel will be back frae the market an' she can make a brew for ye. It's the least we can do," the old man replied.
"We would love tae, Erwin, but I need tae see how the Murray bairns are doing after that spot of measles they caught last week. Dinnae fash yersel', we'll come again, ye ken."
As they left, Severus could not help but ask, "Morag, if you have no qualms about using magic in front of Muggles, why did you go through all the trouble of lighting the fire and cleaning up the old man yourself, and cut his toenails, even? Why not use magic?"
Irritated, the young witch shrugged. "Aye, and I sure could scratch mah arse by magic too, but mah ain fingers do the job jus' fine."
Noticing the frown on Severus' face, she added, "Magic isnae just spells and sparks. It's deeper than that. I did more magic than ye ken."
"I don't understand."
"That's because ye dinnae look. What can ye tell me aboot the aud man we just saw?"
"Well, he is… old. And in poor health, it seems," mumbled Severus, not understanding what she was getting at.
"That all?"
"I don't know," he admitted.
"Did ye nae notice the photographs? A black-and-white wedding one, a faded one of his wife holding their son, and a portrait of his son all grown up. But where are they, his wife and son?"
"He said his wife was at the market and his son works in London," Severus answered, still confused.
"There was a fourth photo, Severus. t'was a death annoucement. Erwin's wife died five years ago, but he forgets that. At first, he didnae want tae believe she was gone, and left all her things untouched. As for his son, he retired a long time ago. Lives in Spain. He never visits."
"Oh." The wizard was at loss for words.
"That's what a guid healer is aboot, Severus. Ye need to see people, really see them, ye ken? Mah Mam saw them. She was always watching, especially the things they didnae want her tae see. I remember once, we were walking doon the street. All of a sudden, she stopped and listened. I did, too. Thought I heard a kitten meowing, but she kenned better. She made straight for a nearby stable an' flung the door open. There was that man hitting a bairn with a rod. The bairn was whimpering. Mah Mam, she said a spell and the rod broke in the man's hand. She said, 'I had mah doots that those welts an' bruises didnae come from falling. Grant Fearghas, if ye ever hit that bairn again, I swear it's yer arm I'll break.' She was fierce, mah Mam. She was short, but she sure could stand tall, ye ken? Anyway, the man jus' stood there twiddling his cap, and he said, 'Aye, Mistress Duncan, I'm sairy. It willnae happen again, ye have mah word.' And he ne'er did, because he kenned she was watching."
"She taught me everything, mah Mam. The herbs, the spells, of course, but the rest too. How tae help a young mither deliver her baby even though she's scared half tae death, and be there tae catch the bairn and wrap her in clean cloth, and show the mither how tae nurse. How tae teach dim-witted parents tae keep their hoose clean so their bairns dinnae catch diseases again an' again. How tae show an aud man or woman tae the other side, comforting them as they leave all they love behind. And once they have passed, ye wash them and stay up for the wake. She did all that, and I do all that. She taught me that's what true witching is."
"I see," Severus replied. He pondered his own thirst for power and greatness as a young man, and felt ashamed, yet inspired. They walked in silence after that. The vale was alive with wild flowers and birdsongs, and white plumes of cloud stretched high above them. Severus kept glancing at the young witch, remembering how he used to stroll the Hogwarts grounds with Lily, so long ago. He felt an urge to take Morag's hand in his, but just as he had been too shy to touch Lily's back then, he didn't dare.
They went to two more houses after that, before heading back to the boulder where Morag had left her broom, which she called a besom.
"When we get back to Hogsmeade, I'll get a room ready for ye in my ain hoose, Severus. We cannae stay in that aud Shack forever, noo that ye've recovered enough. Ye can stay with me till ye've worked oot whit ye goin' tae do."
"Morag, I could not possibly –" he started, but she put her fingers to his mouth to silence him. Before he took stock of what was happening, she kissed him.
His whole world seemed to crash down around him; his inner walls collapsed at his feet, rendered useless by the young woman's soft touch. He could not, would not let his happen – it was too complicated, too risky, too overwhelming. He was going to pull away from this, walk away from her – but not just yet - not just yet.
Glossary
Glossary
A'm – I'm
aboot – abou
ain – own
aud – old
bairn – child
cannae/ dinnae/isnae/shouldnae/willnae… – can't/ don't/isn't/shouldn't/won't…
deid – dead
dinnae fash yersel' – don't worry, don't fret
doot – doubt
frae - from
haud yer weesht – hold your tongue, shut your mouth
hoose – house
guid – good
ken – know
mah – my
mither – mother
nae – not
oor – our
oot – out
sairy – sorry
a Sassenach – an English person
tae – to
tatties – potatoes
ye/yer/yers – you/your/yers